Love is not a sweater but it can
Love is not a sweater but it can


Mother’s Day and Daily Haiku

The Universe’s humor
To make me ponder

I watched “What the Bleep” a few weeks ago, and paraphrased a quote from one of the scientists interviewed.

Every morning when he wakes up, he declares,

I am taking this time to consciously create my day the way I want it to happen.  Unexplainable things happen in surprising and unexpected ways.  I know these are the process or the result of my creation.  The more I do this the more I build a neuro-net in my brain to accept that it’s possible.  This gives me the power and incentive to do it the next day.

Having this conscious intention up front throughout the day provides me with amazing moments.  Many are humorous and light-hearted, like seeing the perfect vanity plate on the car in front of me, relevant to the day’s mood or events.

Yesterday morning I decided to make writing a haiku every day part of my writing practice.  Later on I found the perfect Mother’s Day card that I could not resist buying for myself.

momday haiku

This is one of those small things that happen, confirming my belief in the scientist’s statements.  And made me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants.

The most important aspect of this is the validation that other things are happening, things that take more reflection to recognize.  They are not as obvious, occuring perhaps in increments, but nonetheless of my making.  The right people coming into my life, the right books finding their way into my hands, the right websites, bloggers, and articles appearing and making a difference.

“The thought of an oak tree does not cause the instant formation of a full grown tree, but it does start in motion the forces that will produce the tree along the established lines of growth.” -Wallace D. Wattles.

My response is that of wonder, and occasionally jaw dropping amazement.  It is always with gratitude and quiet faith I recognize the bounty of the Universe.

So on this Mother’s Day, I celebrate the qualities that exemplify motherhood: a good sense of humor, an abundance of love, and incredible patience, the epitome of the Universe itself.

The Unreliable Narrator


I picked my towel off the gym floor and wiped my face. I knew the man from across the room was interested in me, I caught him watching my workout through the mirror.

Obeying my first rule of gym etiquette, I avoided eye contact. Gym rat relationships don’t work, I refuse to get involved anymore. So instead, I met Tina for lunch after my workout. She got to pick the place this time, Char’s Cafe, across from the gym.

“How was your workout?” Tina asked.

“Good,” I replied, I knew better than to go into the details of my abilities, I knew it made her uncomfortable. Poor thing, her husband left her for a younger, thinner woman he met at the office. I know her weight bothers her, so I didn’t brag about being the only one in spin class with a heart rate of 65.

We passed a few minutes looking over the menu and catching up. She went on about some work presentation she and the other VP’s were working on to give in New York next week, I filled her in on the hike I took with Martin.

The waiter interrupted us, just as I was getting to the good part of my hike story, when Martin overreacted AGAIN about being outdone by a girl. A show-off he called me. He’s just so insecure because I can bench press more than he can.

Tina ordered, looked to me, my cue. “I’ll just have a green salad, no dressing.”

Tina cocked her head curiously toward me. I whispered across our water glasses, “I have a body fat test this afternoon.” She sighed deeply and changed the subject. See what I mean about her being over-sensitive?

“Oh! I have to tell you!” I jumped in animatedly. Tina had been droning on about some guy on this project of hers, BORING.

“I saw Karl today at the gym.”


Tina wasn’t ready to talk about Karl, her first boyfriend after her divorce. They met at the grocery store of all places, but I ended up with him after we double dated out to a dance club. I’m a much better dancer, can I help that?

“He looks AWFUL. He hasn’t been to the tanning booth in AGES. He’s all pasty and fleshy looking. You deserve much better.”

I sipped at my water, proud of my ability to make my good friend feel better. What would she have done without me when she and Brad split? I told her, I said, Tina, move on, get on with your life, Honey, there’s no looking back. How can you compete with beauty and youth? Just let him go!

After all, what are good friends for?

Brave Enough to Share

OK.  So.  You, World out there.  Yeah.  You.  As an offering of gratitude of providing me exactly what I asked for (that being a community of writers with which I can share, participate, grow and play), I am linking in my first blog, a blogspot blog I started about a year ago, tentatively, not bravely.  There only a few posts, which I toiled and agonized over, and only invited a safe few to read.

Instead of continuing with that old beauty, it was important for me to start a fresh blog here in the spirit of sharing and confidence, to dare to be read and judged by others, and not to let judgment interfere. 

That old beauty is called “Dithyrambic Spirit”, I put the link in the sidebar.  Honestly, let me know what you think.

Specifically, I have a couple of entries about my parents passing, which has been a current theme running through both my conscious and subconscious days lately.  I have shared these with my family, members of that “safe few”.  But without objective feedback from others NOT there, I don’t have a bearing if these work or not. 

So out there it goes.  Many thanks.

I’ll try to post the link directly here too: